


I Passed Before His House

by MillicentCordelia



Series: The Earth Trembled as You Passed By [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Infidelity, M/M, Romance, Valentine's Day 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 13:37:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6008281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MillicentCordelia/pseuds/MillicentCordelia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I passed before his house;<br/>I found his door ajar.<br/>He looked at me as I passed by,<br/>and I rejoiced."</p>
<p>Love Poem of Ancient Egypt</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Passed Before His House

**Author's Note:**

> This is a "fix-it" fic. The first fic in this two part series, "Got a Hole in my Heart the Size of a Truck", was a tale of woe, which left Jim and Oswald in a bleak place. In this fic, Jim finds the courage to follow his heart, and the result is happier times for all.

After the last of her guests left, Leslie sat down and cut herself a generous slab of the birthday cake. She’d been too busy entertaining her friends to eat, and the champagne had gone straight to her head. She savored the cake; it was delicious, if she did say so herself. She’d perfected her own recipe: mocha layer cake, with raspberry frosting. 

Looking at the jumble of gifts and crumpled wrappings on her coffee table made her feel wistful. Seeing her friends had been delightful, but Jim’s absence had nagged at her all evening, like a persistent toothache, always in the background. Her friends had accepted her excuse-that he was at his own place, recovering from food poisoning. They’d accepted it a little too quickly, and immediately changed the subject. They weren’t stupid; they knew she was lying.

After eight months of dating, Jim had yet to make a single romantic gesture. No flowers, cards, notes, small gifts, or weekend getaways. No long walks in the park in the rain, holding hands. No mention of his vision for their future. Now, he’d ignored her birthday. The previous day, at the end of his shift, he’d told her he’d be spending a few days at his apartment. Recharging his batteries, he said. When she told him about the party she was having for her birthday, he admitted he’d forgotten when her birthday was. Told her he wasn’t up for being around a crowd, apologized, promised to make it up to her. 

She was tired of trying harder and harder, to make things work, while he grew more distant and detached. Tired of making excuses for him, when he didn’t bother to make excuses for himself. She wanted commitment, a family, she was 36 and acutely aware of it. She resolved to do something, in the morning, that she’d never done-show up at his apartment, his personal “fortress of solitude”, and tell him they needed to talk. She had the next day off, and she knew Jim did, too; it was now or never.

____________

The next morning, she took the subway to Jim’s neighborhood. She’d planned to use the time to think of exactly what she wanted to say. Instead, she couldn’t seem to think of anything except a conversation with Harvey Bullock she’d had, before Jim got busted down to traffic cop, and Harvey quit. A couple of uniforms had been gossiping, near the open door to her office. Harvey’d walked up, and they’d quickly dispersed; but she’d heard every word they’d said, and Harvey knew she had. 

“They must not’ve known you were in here.”

Lee forced herself to smile. “It’s ok. It’s not like I haven’t heard it all before.”

“It’s bullshit, plain and simple.” Harvey sat down in the one other chair in the small office. “Jim hates that creepy motherfucker. Just because a cop gets info from a snitch, it don’t mean nothing. Do you really think if Jim was gonna cheat on you, he’d pick some lowlife dirtbag like Penguin?” Harvey frowned. “Not that he’d ever cheat on you. People that repeat that crap, they’re idiots.”

“Thanks, Harvey.” Lee squeezed his hand before he left; she knew from his expression, he understood that she hadn’t believed a word he’d said. True, she doubted Jim was cheating on her with a criminal. But the part about how Jim would never cheat-she was less sure about that than she wanted to be. As hard as she worked at keeping her professional and private life separate, she couldn’t help psychologically profiling her boyfriend. Jim’s career was the main course; everyone else was a side dish. 

She didn’t have a key to his apartment, had never even been there; wouldn’t have known the address if he hadn’t accidentally left some of his junk mail at her place. She stood outside his door, with a Tupperware container of cake in her hands, taking deep breaths and composing herself. 

____________

Jim was awakened by knocking; he figured it was one of the neighbors, wanting something. Bill was still sound asleep, snoring softly. Jim slid out of bed, put on a robe, and went to see who it was, closing the bedroom door behind him. When he saw it was Lee, Jim muttered a curse before opening the door.

"Good Morning!" Lee forced a smile. "Sorry for surprising you. Is this a bad time?"

"Honestly, it is." As her face fell, he spoke quickly. "We agreed to respect each other's privacy. Is there.... some emergency?"

"We need to talk; no surprise, right? She elbowed her way in until she was half inside the door. "But we can pick another time, as long as we don't put it off indefinitely......"She trailed off, looking in the direction of the bedroom door and the sound of a voice-which unfortunately belonged to Bill.

"So, Big Guy, what's for breakfast?" Jim turned around in time to see that Bill had just walked into the living room and had gotten halfway across the room before realizing Lee was there.

He was stark naked.

Later, when Jim's brain started working again, he would remember Bill's next move as making things infinitely worse.

Bill grabbed a throw pillow off the sofa and used it to cover his crotch.

Lee stared at him. "You're not Oswald Cobblepot."

Bill looked confused. "Uh, no. I'm Bill. "

She glared at Jim. "Your "old army buddy"?" Fine. I'm going home to get the locks changed. Call me when you want to pick up your things." She slammed the door on her way out.

Bill walked up to Jim and hugged him. "That went well; for me, anyway. Is this Mr. Cobblepot the guy you talk about in your sleep? Tell the truth. I know you lied to the lady doctor with every breath, but you've been honest with me, I think. So far, anyway."

Jim looked like a puppy that'd been smacked with a newspaper. "Yeah, probably. It's a long story."

"I've got time.” Bill pointed to the Tupperware container Lee'd dropped on a side table. "You can tell me all about it while I eat that. Somehow, you don't look hungry." He paused to kiss Jim, lingeringly, on the lips. “ Don’t look so sad. Am I such a terrible consolation prize?”

“No, of course, not. I’ve been an asshole, to you and to everybody.” Jim wrapped Bill up in a bear hug.

They sat down at the yellow Formica kitchen table that had belonged to Jim’s mom. Bill dug into the cake with a fork he fished out of a nearby drawer. “I was hoping to get the better of Doctor Lady by being patient, and not pressuring you. Why were you hanging onto her, if you don’t mind me asking; and do you think you can be happy, with just one lover in your life?”

“It wasn’t about having multiple lovers. After everything went so wrong with Barbara, I was afraid Lee was the last train out of the station if I wanted the wife and kids, and the white picket fence in the suburbs. You know, that American Dream we fought to protect? I always assumed it’d be like that for me.”

Bill nodded. “Your taste for men notwithstanding? Because you told me you’d been doing things with guys since you were sixteen.”

“My mom made it clear she expected me to bring home a wife, not a husband; but it’s not just that. ” Jim looked miserable. “Lee’s so different from me. She’s got the kind of personality that lights up a room. She cheers everyone up, she’s funny and sweet, everyone loves her. People treated me better, because we were involved. She gave my life the structure it was missing. I never meant for you to get hurt. I never meant for anybody to get hurt, I just told myself that life’s complicated and I’m no worse than anyone else. Except maybe I am.”

“You’re no worse than me, at least. Maybe I’m so forgiving and tolerant because I’m just like you. I’ve made a career out of “keeping it light.” I figure if I run fast enough, keep moving, don’t let myself get pinned down-I can’t get hurt.” Bill poured himself and Jim a glass of orange juice, then sat back down. “Back in the army, I told myself that you and I were just fooling around. It didn’t mean anything. Trouble is, when you take that attitude, after a while nothing means anything. I do real well with sex, love’s a different matter. Now, tell me about this Mr. Cobblepot.”

“He’s a criminal I’ve crossed paths with. We’re not even friends. He wanted to be, but I can’t go there.”

“Why do you dream about him?”

“I don’t even know. There’s no point in thinking about it, or him, it’s all an exercise in futility.” Jim rubbed his eyes. “He’s a criminal. End of story.”

“Meaning you think about him a lot, and there’s something about the way that makes you feel that’s terrifying.” Bill smiled at Jim’s surprised expression. “I know, Doctor Lady hasn’t been gone an hour, and now I’m psychobabbling at you. The thing is, I’m tired of going through life alone. I’ve missed you, and I was hoping maybe we could get together and try to make something work. First, though, you’d have to try and get closure with the man who haunts your dreams.

“Closure? But I’m telling you, nothing’s ever happened between us!”

“That’s what worries me. If he was just some guy you’d fucked a few times, no problem. But you dream about him instead, and that’s worse. I never worried that you wanted the doctor lady more than you wanted me, but this Cobblepot guy, that’s different. Your ex wasn’t surprised to find you with someone else; she was surprised it wasn’t Cobblepot.”

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Talk to him. You say nothing’s ever happened? Make the ‘nothing’ official. Make a fool of yourself if you have to, but get it out in the open. Do you know if he’s interested in you?”  
Jim got busy drinking orange juice. “We’ve never talked about it.”

“That’s a yes, so it’s worse than I thought.”

“He has a boyfriend! I’ve seen them around town together!”

“Um-hmm. You’re watching.” Bill paused. “ OK, that’s enough drama for a minute. You wanna go back to bed for a while? You look like you could use some more sleep.”

Jim gratefully accepted Bill’s invitation. It’d been a hell of a morning.


	2. I Found His Door Ajar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim flounders; Harvey steps in with some good advice.

The only time Jim had seen Oswald and Dennis together, was at a restaurant Leslie had talked him into going to. Leslie was a foodie, who owned a bookcase full of cookbooks, and for whom going to a new restaurant was an experience akin to entering the gates of heaven. L’Espalier received rave reviews in the Gotham Gazette, so it was inevitable that Leslie would drag him there. He loathed the pretentiousness, the inflated prices; and, most of all, the small portions of mysterious entrees drizzled with sauces that smelled like they were concocted from rose petals and old leather boots. He imagined the kitchen was populated by grizzled wizards hunched over steaming cauldrons of crabapples and beef marrow, chanting eldritch spells like the witches in Macbeth. 

Their server, whose name was Orlando, curled his lip when Jim asked for a beer; and delivered it with disdain, as if it were a dead rodent. 

Leslie chattered excitedly through the meal, analyzing every bite, while Jim picked at the food, and nursed his beer. 

“Jim,” she murmured in a low voice. “Don’t stare. But look to your left. Isn’t that Oswald Cobblepot?”

It was Oswald, being ushered to a table with a tall, blonde man. Jim’s stomach immediately turned over. 

“I heard the maître d’ say something about ‘your regular table’. They must come here often!” Leslie loved gossip almost as much as she loved food. “I often wondered what sort of person ‘The Penguin’ might date. Do you know who that is?” 

“Never seen him before.” Jim began stabbing at his food with renewed vigor. “What did you say this was?”

“Never mind the food, for a moment. I don’t see mob bosses every day, and his date’s not at all what I expected. Reminds me a little of Harvey Dent, but blonde. ” Leslie eyed Oswald and Dennis over the top of her glass as she took a sip of wine. 

“What did you expect? Some guy in a pinstriped suit, with a machine gun?” Jim scowled at his salad, is if insulted by its Balsamic Berry Vinaigrette. 

“No.” Leslie continued, undaunted. “But Penguin’s such an eccentric looking person. I imagined someone more outlandish; someone peculiar, or flamboyant. Like, I don’t know. Someone who looks like Marilyn Manson.” When Jim rolled his eyes, Leslie giggled.

Jim snuck looks at Oswald and his date throughout the rest of the meal; he couldn’t help it. Leslie was right; with his clean-cut good looks, Dennis looked much more like a male model than Jim wished he did. Jim realized, with a pang, that he felt something like loss; something like regret; jealousy, even. It didn’t make any sense, but there it was. His dirty secret.

Dennis was attentive, hanging on Oswald’s every word; looking into his eyes. He was undoubtedly a great guy, a great catch; handsome and kind, and probably smart. Successful. Gracious. Everything anyone could want.

Just like Leslie.

The pair laughed and talked, and Dennis held Oswald’s hand; leaned over and kissed his cheek when he left the table to go to the men’s room. While he was gone, Oswald sat staring out a window; looking inexplicably sad, and lost. When Dennis returned, he brightened up immediately. 

Jim wondered how much of that was an act. Just like the act he put on, so often, for Leslie.

After dinner, Jim dropped Leslie off at her place; then went to his own apartment. He sat and drank until the sun came up. He didn’t dare go to sleep.

____________

After their break-up, Jim dreaded running into Leslie at work. But, Leslie was still Leslie; it wasn’t in her nature to hold a grudge. Despite a couple of weeks of tension, where they couldn’t seem to look each other in the eye, they were finally able to settle into something like a real friendship. They went out for lunch occasionally; without the pressure of being her boyfriend, Jim found he was able to open up to Leslie and actually enjoy her company. 

Most days, Jim spent his lunch hour at “McHaverty’s”, where Harvey was a bartender.

“So. You ever gonna tell me what happened?” Harvey was standing behind the bar, peering at Jim over the top of his glasses. “’Cause the word at the precinct is, Dr. Thompkins ain’t spilled a crumb of dirt. She’s been silent as the grave. “

“Is that an M.E. joke?” Jim tried to think of a way to avoid the subject. “Listen, I already told you. It just didn’t work out. She wants kids, I’m not ready to settle down, there’s no dirt.”

“Is that why you get green around the gills every time I bring it up? C’mon Jim. Tell your Uncle Harvey the truth.”

“The truth is, we both have work to do.” Jim set his empty glass on the bar, and slapped Harvey on the shoulder. “ Lunch break’s over. Gotta go, all that traffic won’t wait!”

Harvey watched as Jim disappeared through the front door. He wished he and Jim were still working together. If he had all day to work on him, he knew he’d be able to weasel the truth out of him, eventually. 

____________

It was pouring down rain, like it seemed to do ninety-nine evenings out of a hundred, and Jim’s umbrella wasn’t doing him much good. The rain was blowing sideways, hitting him in the face, sending trickles down his neck and under his collar. By the time he reached his destination, he was thoroughly soaked.

His destination was a bar called the “Lost N Found”, located in one of the seediest parts of a city with more square feet of seedy than most people could imagine. It was dark inside, and smoky; he lit a cigarette as he sat down at the bar, grateful that the place was, at least, warm. He was working on his second bourbon on the rocks, when someone sat down beside him.

“This seat taken?”

The blonde youth couldn’t have been more than nineteen. Dressed in jeans and a blue sweater, at first glance he might have been any college student, out for a night of slumming. “Nah. Can I buy you a drink?” Jim looked the kid up and down. A little scrawny for his tastes, but clean looking, and well groomed. Nice cheekbones, brown eyes with thick lashes. 

“Yeah. A Tequila Sunrise?” He tilted his head, and smiled at Jim. He was going through the motions of casual flirting, but he was twitchy; anxious; desperate for the money he was hoping to earn.

As the blonde was sucking down his drink, Jim felt a hand on his arm. “What’s up, Jimbo? Did you forget we had a date?”

Jim turned to see Harvey standing beside him; for a moment, he was speechless. “What the ...?”

Harvey reached over a pressed a wad of bills into the blonde’s hand. “This is yer tip, now scram.” The blonde eagerly did as he was told. 

Jim felt himself being pulled off the barstool. Harvey propelled him towards the door, back out into the rain; shoved him into the passenger seat of his car. 

“What’s this all about?” Jim lit another cigarette, and exhaled noisily.

“I need your help with somethin’. It’s important.” Harvey offered no other explanation, and clammed up until they arrived at Jim’s building. Harvey followed Jim up the stairs, then plunked himself down on the sofa. Jim brought out a couple of beers, handed one to Harvey.

“What is it you need help with, that’s so important?”

Harvey took his hat off. “You. You’re what’s so important. This is the third time in as many weeks that you’ve gone to some dive bar, in some god-forsaken part of town, to pick up some sleazy hustler that I wouldn’t touch if I was wearin’ rubber gloves.”

“What’ve you been doin’, following me?” Jim bared his teeth and yelled. “What the hell business is it of yours what I do?”

Harvey stood up, and when he did he roared. “It’s my Goddamn business because I didn’t save your sorry ass all those times, just so you could die from some disease you got from pickin’ up a junkie for a ten cent fuck!” Harvey’s face was bright red. “ Who went with you to arrest Falcone, when all that shit came out about Cobblepot? Who helped you save Falcone from Maroni? I lost my fucking job because of you! I’m the best friend you’ve got, I’m watching you fuck up your life, and you won’t fucking talk to me about it!”

The energy seemed to drain out of Jim; he dropped into a chair. A few minutes later, Harvey sat down, too.

“Leslie broke up with me, because she caught me with someone else. I was cheating on her. “ Jim looked at the floor, then met Harvey’s eyes. 

“So who was you cheatin’ with?”

“Bill. I guy I know from the army. He lives in New York. But, I’m not seeing him any more, because he made a demand that I can’t.......I can’t deal with it.”

“Ok. So you’re horny. And lonely. I get it. But what you’ve been doin’, I don’t get that. You’re a guy with movie star looks; you could have anybody you wanted. Why pick up sleazoids?”

“Because it’s easy, and there’s no strings, and I’m tired. Other than that, I have no idea why I do what I do. I’m a fuck-up. Harvey.”

“Bullshit. You’re a smart guy, you know what’s wrong, you just don’t wanna talk about it.” Harvey watched Jim fidgeting. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with Cobblepot, would it? Everybody knows he’s got a thing for you. It ain’t mutual is it.....?”

“He’s got a boyfriend,” Jim snapped, scowling. “Not that I care.”

“Uh-huh. They broke up.” Harvey raised his hands. “I’m a bartender, I hear things. The word is, honey-bun left town.” Jim didn’t respond; they sat in silence, Jim unable to meet Harvey’s eyes. Finally, Harvey got up. “Ok, thanks for the stimulatin’ conversation. Think maybe you can keep your dick in your pants for the rest of the evenin’?”

As Harvey was letting himself out, Jim spoke. “Thanks Harvey. For giving a damn.”


	3. He Looked at Me as I Passed By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim works up the courage to do some risk-taking.

“Boss?” Gabe stuck his head through the half open door to Oswald’s private sitting room. “Yer appointment’s here.”

“Thank you, Gabriel.” Oswald was sitting in an easy chair by one of his condo’s many oversized fireplaces; wearing burgundy brocade pajamas and a black velvet smoking jacket. He set down his glass of red wine, as a young man entered the room.

The man could have been any well dressed, young professional. His carrot-colored hair and face full of freckles gave him a “boy next door” air of innocence; but his mannerisms were practiced and deliberate. He was very fit, very handsome, and very polite. “Good evening, sir. I’m Aiden.” He extended his hand.

“I know who you are. I picked out your photo, online.” Oswald clasped the man’s hand. “Tell me Aiden, do you have anything against cripples?”

“No, sir; how could I possibly have anything but admiration for such an obviously sophisticated gentleman such as yourself?” Aiden smiled warmly.

“Good answer. Sophisticated, and most likely, generous?” Oswald chuckled. “Let’s not play games, Aiden, we both know why you’re here. I’d like a massage first; your résumé said erotic massage was one of your specialties.” A knock at the door caused Oswald to frown. “Yes?”

Gabe reappeared, motioned for Oswald to come closer, and whispered to him.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Aiden; something’s come up.” Oswald handed him an envelope that’d been sitting on a side table. “ Here’s your full fee, and a sizable tip. Perhaps we’ll meet again, under more favorable circumstances.”

Aiden kissed Oswald’s hand, and left quickly; still smiling. As he left through the formal great room, he kept to the shadows; avoiding Jim, who was sitting by yet another fireplace.

“Jim! Old friend, so good to see you!” Oswald limped into the room. “Where are my manners? I just sent my masseur away; I should have offered you his services. There’s nothing like a good massage after a hard day’s work. Can I offer you a glass of wine?”

Oswald’s eyes were cold; Jim knew why. “Yes, thanks. I guess you’re wondering why I’m here.”

“You want your old job back, so you’d like me to convince Commissioner Loeb to give it to you?” Oswald settled into a chair opposite Jim.

“No. That’s not why I’m here. The first thing I came to do was apologize, for what happened at the hospital.” Jim pulled a piece of paper out of his jacket. “The second thing is, there is something I’m going to ask you to do for me.”

“Oh, the hospital. What’s a little misunderstanding between friends? Oswald spat the word “friends” at Jim as if it were something dirty. “What’s this about?” He looked at he piece of paper, and scowled.

“Tomorrow, drive by that address. It’s a house, in a neighborhood just outside of the city. I want you to take a close look at it; look at the neighborhood. Then tomorrow night, I’ll come back and explain what this is about.”

“Whose house is it? You’re being very mysterious, Jim. Are you going to ask me to put out a hit on the owner?”

“I’m not sure who lives there. I just want you to look at it. Will you?”

“All right, I’m intrigued.” Oswald looked genuinely puzzled. “Anything else?”

“No, I guess not. Have a nice evening, Oswald.” Jim drained his glass, and left.

He’d been gone nearly thirty minutes when Oswald realized, it was the first time he’d ever heard Jim use his first name.

____________

“Forty-two, fifty-six, Meadowlark Drive. Stop over there.” Oswald directed his driver, who pulled over next to a small park directly opposite the house. Oswald got out and stretched, then peered thoughtfully at his surroundings.

The house was a mid century ranch house, in an upper middle class neighborhood; well kept, nicely landscaped, but unremarkable. Children of a variety of ages played in the park, in the late afternoon sun; under the watchful eyes of young mothers. On the sidewalk, people jogged, pushed strollers, walked dogs. The scene could have come straight from the imagination of Norman Rockwell. None of it held meaning, nor associations, for Oswald. He walked across the street, searching for clues as he climbed the steps to the front porch. When he rang the bell, a bespectacled middle-aged man answered the door.

Oswald greeted the man, introduced himself, and confirmed the address. “My real estate agent told me this property was for sale, but I don’t see a sign. Has it already sold?”

“I’m afraid there’s been some mistake. We bought this house nearly seventeen ago, and we haven’t put it on the market. Although now that the kids are in college, we’ve talked about downsizing. Alicia, though-that’s my wife-says we better hang onto it, in case the kids come back home with spouses and kids of their own. That’s a trend these days, you know!” The man was jovial, and chatty; and obviously not the least bit put off by Oswald’s unusual appearance.

“Oh, I’m awfully sorry to have bothered you! What a shame, it’s not for sale, though; I’m looking for a house for my mother, in a nice, quiet neighborhood.” Oswald paused, and looked around. “You say you’ve been here twenty years? You must like it here.”

“It’s been wonderful. The house was a steal; a fixer-upper, we got it from two brothers after their mom passed away. Gordon was their name. Their dad used to be the district attorney here. Died in a car crash when the brothers were kids; real tragic thing, that. Guess the mom was depressed or something, didn’t keep the house up very well. Can’t blame her.” The man stopped to pick up a Chihuahua that was barking furiously at Oswald. “It’s a great neighborhood, though; we got a neighborhood watch, good schools, no crime to speak of. And there’s a couple of houses for sale one street over!”

"I can’t thank you enough for your time.” Oswald beamed at the man. “You’ve been extremely helpful.”

As his car drove away, Oswald shook his head. He understood the connection, now; but why had Jim wanted him to see the place?

____________

This time, when Jim arrived, Oswald was less belligerent, less brittle. He could tell that Jim was nervous; but he still hadn’t a clue what was going on, or what Jim was nervous about. They sat opposite each other again, in front of the fire, the flickering light playing over their features.

Oswald broke the silence. “All right. I did as you asked; I know that the address you gave me was for the house you grew up in. Are you going to explain why you wanted me to see it?”

“I wanted you to be able to picture what I was talking about.” Jim cleared his throat. “ The last time I saw you, I asked you to forgive me for treating you badly. If I’m going to ask that, you deserve to know a little more about me; and why I am who I am. The neighborhood you saw-it’s where I grew up, in a sort of insulated paradise. The perfect family, the perfect parents. I had a very happy childhood, until I was thirteen. That’s when my father died in a car crash.”

Jim leaned forward. “I was in the car. My dad’s car was sideswiped; the other car ran us off the road, the car flipped over; I was unconscious for a few minutes. When I came to, some men were lifting my dad out of the car. My dad- told me they were from the ambulance, and they’d come back for me in a minute. They carried him away. A little while later I heard gunshots.”  
“I’m sorry, Jim. Did you ever find out who did it?”

“My father had a gambling addiction. He owed a huge sum of money to the Bertinelli family. They killed him, to make an example out of him-there was no way he could ever pay them back the money. The family savings was gone, the house was double mortgaged. He’d borrowed money from everyone he knew, including Carmine Falcone. He’d even pawned my mom’s silver and china, and his own wedding ring. After he was dead, Falcone paid off the mortgages, helped my mom find a job. She started drinking- a lot. Taking pills.”

“What was her name? Oswald asked, softly.

“ Marion. My brother, Roger, was five years older than me. He was angry all the time, rebellious, gave my mom hell. I tried to be the good son, the one who made her happy. I was angry, too but I kept it inside, and I felt guilty; like it was my responsibility to be the man of the house, and I was making a bad job of it. Roger left home after high school; he got scholarships to college, almost never came back home. Washed his hands of Gotham, and us, and everything that had to do with his past. So it was just me and mom. “

Jim finished off his glass of wine; got up and stood by the fireplace with his hands in his pockets, before continuing. “I wanted so much to please her. I blamed myself when she was unhappy. When I was 16, she came home from work early; and she caught me making out with one of my friends. A guy. She cried, she told me I was breaking her heart, and it was going to kill her. I liked girls, too, maybe not as much as guys, but I made up my mind-I wasn’t going to hurt my mom. My dad hurt her, Roger hurt her, I was the only one left.....do you understand?” He looked at Oswald.

Oswald had rarely seen anyone look more miserable. “You took on your mom’s burdens; she made you feel guilty for being yourself, and you’ve been trying to make up for that ever since. Being a war hero, saving Gotham; being super human. Nothing’s ever enough. I understand now, why you felt you had to save Falcone. You owed him.”

“He stuck by my mom; I’ll always be grateful for that. She passed away right before I joined the army. That’s where I met Bill. So far, that’s been the longest-term relationship of my life. I mean Bill, not the Army, though you could make a good case for either.” Jim smiled, a little, at that. “I hadn’t seen him for years, until a couple of months ago. Long story short, it’s why Leslie and I split, and now Bill and I are...he left. For good, I guess.”

“Does he live in Manhattan? I may have seen the two of you, together, once when Dennis and I went up for a weekend.”

“You’re kidding. A place as packed with people as that, and you saw us?”

“You were getting into a cab. He’s very attractive.” Oswald pretended to study his manicure. “I was there with Dennis; I don’t believe you ever met him. He’s moved to Seattle to take care of his father, who’s seriously ill.”

They looked at each other in silence, as the fire crackled. Jim cleared his throat, just as someone knocked on the nearest door. Oswald called out, “Yes?” in an annoyed tone, and Gabe appeared.

“Sorry, Boss. It’s Ms. Zim, says it’s urgent.”

Oswald rolled his eyes. “Jim, could you wait on me for just a moment?”

Jim nodded, and Oswald left with Gabe. A few minutes later, Oswald returned, scowling. “I’m afraid my line of work doesn’t provide me with bankers’ hours. I must apologize; could we resume our conversation, tomorrow evening? I did want to say before you leave-that I understand about the hospital incident.”

“I’d like that; resuming our conversation. I can drop by tomorrow night, about the same time.”

Oswald looked relieved; he was smiling when Jim left. On the way out, Jim noticed the silver haired woman waiting in the next room; a woman so pale, her skin appeared pigmentless. She wore bright red contact lenses, and a worried expression. He knew who Mitzi Zim was- a young, up and coming entrepreneur who managed a number of escort services and nightclubs. She gave Jim the creeps; privately, he thought she looked like an extra from a low budget vampire movie

Jim figured she aspired to be the next Fish Mooney. “Good luck with that”, he thought.

He decided to walk home instead of taking the subway. He was in a good mood; Oswald had accepted his apology. He didn’t want to think any farther than that. He let the city fill his senses; the skyscrapers, the lights, the crowds, the street noise. He felt at home, and happier than he’d been in a long time.

____________

“Mr. Cobblepot won’t be able to see you this evening.” The man at the door appeared agitated.

Jim frowned. “I have an appointment.”

“He’s out, sir. All appointments for this evening are canceled.”

The door was almost closed when another man pulled it back, and stepped outside. “It’s all right, Ryan. He’s going with me.” Victor Zsasz was pulling on a pair of fingerless leather gloves as he walked. “You don’t want to miss the chance to help save Mr. Cobblepot’s life, do you?”

Jim hurried after Victor. “Maybe you could explain what’s going on?”

Victor never slowed down. When a blue sedan pulled up to the curb, Victor slid into the back seat, then looked up at Jim. “Coming, or not?”

Against his better judgment, Jim climbed into the car. The driver was one of the women Jim’d seen Victor with; another was in the passenger seat, and a third sat in the back, making the back seat uncomfortably crowded.

Victor regarded Jim as calmly as if they were old friends. “Mr. Cobblepot’s takeover of Don Falcone’s business ventures has gone smoothly, for the most part; but we have an irritant in the mix. He’s tried to put some of his peers out of business.”

“Peers like Mitzi Zim?”

“Her and others. Mr. Cobblepot paid our wayward coworker a visit. There was an ambush. Gabe got shot; he’ll live, but two other bodyguards were shot dead. At present, Mr. Cobblepot’s being held in the office of one Ogden Barker. All of Barker’s on site employees outside the office have been eliminated. ” Victor paused to give directions to the driver. “Here’s the plan; someone gets into that office. Five minute later, we cut the power to the building. The room will be pitch black. The person inside gets Mr. Cobblepot on the ground, as much out of harm’s way as possible. I enter the room using the ventilation shaft, followed by Felicia and Sigrid. Once we’re in, the lights come back on, and we kill everyone except you and Mr. Cobblepot.”

Jim flipped an internal switch that quieted the alarm shrieking ‘Bad Idea’.’ “So I’m the guy who gets inside. How?”

“You’re a police officer. Figure it out.” The car screeched to a stop.

____________

The interior of Barker’s club looked like a slaughterhouse. There were at least seven corpses between Jim and the office door, and the floor was slick with blood. He approached slowly. “GCPD! Can you hear me, Barker?”

“Whaddya want?” someone shouted.

“I’m unarmed, just wanna talk.” As he reached the door, it opened enough for someone to grab him and pull him in, He was frisked, roughly.

The thug shoved Jim against a wall. “He’s clean, Mr. Barker. No wires or weapons.”

“What the fuck? I pay the cops plenty to stay outta my business.” Barker sat behind a desk. His electric blue shirt and pencil thin mustache made him look like a caricature of a small time hustler. “Wait a minute, I know you-you’re Penguin’s bitch! Ain’t this sweet. You come to save your boyfriend.”

Jim moved towards Oswald who was sitting in a straight-backed chair. He was gratified to see Oswald wasn’t tied up or handcuffed.

“You’re right. What do you want, Mr. Barker?” He laid a hand on Oswald’s shoulder.

“What do I want? I got reinforcements on the way, and we’re gonna take Penguin with us when we leave. Then I’m gonna kill him in a roomful of people who need to understand who the new boss really is.” Barker leaned back, and lit up a cigar. “I think I’ll kill you too, while I’m at it.”

Oswald spoke up. “That’s old school, Ogden. You’ll be painting a target on your own back. Let’s negotiate, and make this a win/win.”

The lights went out. Jim grabbed Oswald, threw him to the floor and lay on top of him. When the lights came on, the sound of gunfire was deafening. Jim looked up to see three men down, but none of them was Barker. On the other side of the room, there was an empty space where part of the wall had been. Victor and the women charged through it.

“He had a hidden exit.” Jim grabbed a gun from the hand of one of the dead men, and pulled Oswald to his feet. “C’mon. The car’s parked on the street.” He half carried Oswald out of the office.  
“Have you lost your mind? You could have been killed!”

“You’re welcome,” Jim huffed, as he dragged Oswald through the club’s kitchen. They came out in a parking garage. They’d almost made it to the exit when Jim saw something out of the corner of his eye.  
It was Barker, aiming a gun straight at Oswald.

Jim fired.

For a moment he stood there, watching Barker’s body hit the concrete. The next thing he knew, he was diving into the back seat of the blue sedan, pulling Oswald in after him. The driver, another of Victor’s associates, took off, glancing into the rearview mirror. “Did you get the bastard?”

“He’s dead.” Oswald turned to Jim. “Are you all right?”

“I should be asking you that. You’re the one who just got held hostage.” Jim studied Oswald’s face. Bruises were forming, and the beginnings of what was going to be a black eye.

“Barker instructed one of his employees to slap me around. It hardly matters now. “ Oswald hesitated. “Thank you; for coming to rescue me. How did you find out where I was?”

“When I showed up at your place, Victor was just leaving. He had a plan; I fit into it.” Jim lowered his voice. “He said your life was being threatened. I couldn’t say no.” He reached out and squeezed Oswald’s hand. He thought better of it, the moment he did it; but when he tried to pull back, he found that Oswald was holding on.

Oswald scooted closer to him, so that their shoulders were just touching. Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the drive. They sat in silence, the police officer and the mob boss, holding hands.  
When they reached Jim’s apartment building, the driver pulled over.

Oswald didn’t seem to want to let go of Jim’s hand “We’d better drop you off here. I’ll call you in a few days, when things settle down.”

Jim nodded. He stood on the sidewalk, watched the car merge into traffic, and disappear.


	4. And I Rejoiced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you've gotten this far, dear reader, I hope you'll be pleased by this last chapter; here are those "happier times" you were promised!

Jim looked up from his desk to find Harvey staring at him.

“What?”

Harvey tapped his watch. “Lunch time.” He looked at the stack of folders on Jim’s desk. “C’mon, we ain’t gonna solve every homicide in Gotham our first week back.”

Jim allowed himself to be herded out the door, and steered to “Dino’s Diner”, one of Harvey’s favorite greasy spoons. Harvey sighed with satisfaction when the waitress deposited a plate in front of him that Jim guesstimated contained a week’s worth of calories and a month’s worth of fat grams. Jim dug into a chef salad while Harvey munched contentedly on his triple cheeseburger.

Harvey belched and wiped his mouth. “You ever gonna tell me why Loeb gave us our jobs back? Word is, you did Cobblepot a favor and this is payback.”

“Can’t tell you much about what you already know.”

“So you and Cobblepot, you patched up all your differences?”

“We were talking. I felt good about it. He said he’d call me; that was a week and a half ago.”

Harvey picked his teeth, and looked thoughtful. “Maybe you scared him. Maybe he’s thought better of getting’ too friendly. Maybe his boyfriend came back.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“Look, you know I can’t stand the little fucker. But if he’s got under your skin, you ain’t never gonna be happy unless you get him out of your system. Somehow, you gotta move on. ‘Cause if you don’t, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life watchin’ you mope around like a lovesick teenager. So, if he don’t call you, go see him, or whatever you need to do. If he’s got cold feet, maybe you can patch things up with Bill.” Harvey paused. “What’s so funny?”

Jim was smiling, in spite of his bad mood. “Penguins always have cold feet. No matter what.”

“All right, wise guy. Just for that you can pick up the tab. After I order dessert, that is.”

____________

By the time Jim reached his apartment building late that afternoon, he’d made up his mind to call Oswald. He was going to do it the minute he got home, so he wouldn’t have time to lose his nerve. The elevator, for once, wasn’t out of order; he’d no sooner stepped in when the door re-opened.

It was Oswald.

“Jim! I was dropping by to put a note under your door, actually, I didn’t know you got home this early. But I’m glad I ran into you.”

“Me too, I was about to call you, to thank you for whatever you did to get me and Harvey reinstated...” Jim was interrupted by the elevator stopping to let on more passengers; this time, a group so large the elevator was crammed with people. Jim and Oswald were pushed into a back corner. Without thinking, Jim slipped an arm around Oswald’s waist. They were pressed up against each other; Jim was wondering if Oswald liked that as much as he did when Oswald leaned in and tucked his head under Jim’s chin.

They were the last ones off the elevator; Jim’s hand was in the middle of Oswald’s back as he guided him towards his door.

Inside, Jim went to hang up his suit jacket in the coat closet. “Can I take your jacket?”

Oswald looked uncomfortable. “It’s...I don’t usually take if off. Unless the room is unusually hot. I mean, it’s part of the outfit.” He let out a deep breath. “That didn’t make any sense.”

“You’re fine.” Jim gestured at the sofa. “ Would you like something to drink? I may have a bottle of wine around here somewhere, probably not as good as what you’re used to.”

Before Oswald could answer, Jim stepped into the kitchen and began searching, noisily. He returned with two highball glasses, a bottle of red wine, and a corkscrew. “I don’t do much entertaining. I never spent a lot of time here, before Lee and I split up.”

“You mean, unless you were meeting Bill? I assume that’s why you got an apartment.” Oswald sipped his wine; Jim noticed that his hand seemed unsteady.

“About that. Bill and I never promised each other anything; we were more than just fuck-buddies, but we never figured out what. He finally wanted more, and he asked me to...clear things up with you. He said I talked about you in my sleep.” Jim saw the disbelief in Oswald’s pale eyes.

“Me? Jim, you acted as if I repulsed you; as if you wouldn’t touch me if you were blind drunk and everybody else in the world was dead. The harder I tried to make friends with you, the worse you treated me.” Oswald set his glass down; now his hands were obviously shaking, and he clenched them in his lap. “I hoped Dennis would make me forget about you. He couldn’t.”

It didn’t matter, that Jim knew more than he wished he did about Oswald’s lifestyle, and the things he’d done. At that moment, the King of Gotham looked vulnerable, fragile; as if Jim could break his heart with a word. “I’m terrible with relationships. I’m obsessed with my job, I’ve got a bad temper, I snore. Outside of the job, I’m not sure who I am. I’m terrified of getting too close to anyone. I leave toothpaste in the sink and dirty socks on the floor. I don’t know how we’d ever reconcile being on opposite sides of the law. I come home in the middle of the night smelling like chili dogs. I’m tone deaf, but I sing in the shower anyway-really, really loud.”

“Keep talking sweet like this, and you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” Oswald reached inside his jacket, and produced an envelope. “I was going to leave this for you.”

It was a small, cream colored, envelope; with Jim’s name written on it in old fashioned, spidery script. Jim took it, and tore it open; inside was a folded card, with Oswald’s name printed on the front; Jim read it.

He dropped it on the coffee table.

Oswald, startled, shrank back when Jim suddenly moved towards him; Jim reached out, and brushed his fingertips over Oswald’s bangs. Oswald held his breath as Jim touched his cheek and neck. When Jim withdrew his hand, Oswald followed; his head tilted, offering his lips, as he clutched at the front of Jim’s shirt.

Jim ran his tongue over Oswald’s lips, tasting him; pushed him back against the sofa cushions. They kissed hungrily, awkwardly, until their teeth collided and they broke apart; smiling and flushed.

“I don’t want to rush you.” Jim studied Oswald’s expression, which was somewhere between dazed and ecstatic. “God knows I’ve made enough mistakes already.”

“You mean like making me think you hated me?” Oswald’s tone was playful, but the comment stung.

“I’m sorry. I know I hurt your feelings. I was a complete jackass.

“It’s true. You were perfectly awful to me, so now I think you should work extra hard at being nice.” Oswald ran a hand over Jim’s tie, then began to loosen it.

“I want to show you something.” Jim reached past Oswald, to open a drawer in a side table next to the sofa. He pulled out a file folder, and handed it to Oswald.

“Medical records?” Oswald raised his eyebrows. “Jim, you do have some odd ideas about how to be romantic.”

“After Bill left, I wanted to come see you, but it took me a while to get up the nerve. I was drinking a lot, and doing some things in the meantime that... I’m not proud of. I wanted you to know I got a clean bill of health despite my....stupidity.”

“I appreciate that; I did it myself-went to a doctor, I mean- after Dennis left. To make sure. It’s ironic that when you finally did visit me, I was about to spend an evening with a professional companion, for the first time since before Dennis and I started dating. I’m glad you showed up when you did.”

Oswald removed his suit jacket and laid it on the coffee table. “You’re stalling, aren’t you? Something’s not right. Here, stand up.” He wrapped his arms around Jim , and pressed his head to his chest. “Your heart- it’s pounding. You’re anxious, aren’t you?” Astonished, he looked up at Jim. “You’re a nervous wreck.”

“I’m terrible with relationships.”

“You said that already.”

“I’m probably going to disappoint you and you’ll end up hating me.”

“In the meantime, how about I teach you how to undress me? It’s a tad involved.” He guided Jim’s hands to his collar. “First you un-do the pin, here. The collar detaches, like this. Next, the vest, and slide the suspenders off my shoulders. Now, the cufflinks. And the undershirt.”

Oswald sat down, and stroked Jim’s hair while Jim unlaced his shoes.

“Sock garters! I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone who wore these.” Jim pushed up the leg of Oswald’s pants, caressing his calf.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ to the question of shall I leave them on.” Oswald wriggled free of his trousers, to reveal black silk boxers. “My turn.” Jim leaned down to kiss him as he unbuttoned Jim’s shirt and undid his belt. “Hmmm, this is a bit complicated.” He sat on the sofa and winked as he pulled Jim toward him. “I’ll have to get very close up to see how to manage this.”

Oswald slowly unbuttoned Jim’s pants and slid them down. He looked up to make eye contact as he eased the blue cotton boxers over Jim’s hips. “Your anxiety doesn’t seem to affect the urgency of your interest.” He maintained eye contact as he took Jim in his mouth.

Jim’s brain immediately went offline, registering only “warm” and “wet”; the way Oswald’s lips looked stretched around his cock, and the feel of Oswald’s hands; one assisting those talented lips, one gripping Jim’s ass. Jim picked up on the rhythm Oswald set; fucking into Oswald’s mouth until the noises Oswald was making threatened to put him over the edge; pushed him backwards onto the sofa, and stretched out beside him. When they kissed, their mouths moved together, their bodies moved together in sync; they’d become a tangle of sweaty, undulating limbs when Jim stood up and brought Oswald with him, lifting him off his feet.

Oswald laughed out loud as Jim carried him into the bedroom.

The first thing Jim did was to accidentally rip Oswald’s boxers in half as he was removing them.

The second thing he did was to lick a stripe down Oswald’s torso from his neck to his hip, and demonstrate his own skill set of what he could do with his mouth between Oswald’s legs.

The third thing he did was to roll over on his back, pulling Oswald’s slender frame on top of him. Oswald got the hint that Jim wanted him to take control; he reached between them and wrapped his long, delicate fingers around their erections, as Jim arched up to increase the friction between them. Every movement brought with it a fresh jolt of pleasure; Jim groaned as he felt himself handled, and stroked, and rubbed until the pressure in his loins boiled over and he released, spilling over his own torso and Oswald’s. He gasped for breath, holding onto his lover’s shoulders as Oswald trembled through his own climax, spurting onto Jim’s stomach.

They lay panting in each other’s arms. As their breathing slowed, Oswald cleaned them off with what was left of his boxers. “These are a lost cause anyway,” he chuckled as he tossed them on the floor.

“Uh, sorry about that.” Jim tried to look contrite.

Oswald snuggled up to him. “I’ll forgive you, you brute. I’ll also forgive you for all the purple marks you left on my neck, and the inside of my thigh.”

Jim stroked Oswald’s neck. “You really are beautiful, you know that?”

“Mmmm. You’re sweet. And cuddly. My big gorgeous blond teddy bear.” Oswald brushed his lips over Jim’s ear, whispering. “Who blushes like a debutante when I compliment him.”

Jim pulled the comforter over them and relaxed into Oswald’s embrace. Soon the only noise in Jim’s darkened bedroom was the sound of lovers breathing as they fell asleep together.

____________

When Oswald awoke, he found he’d taken the position of little spoon, and was pressed up against Jim, who was lying on his side with his arm draped over his bedmate. Oswald breathed in Jim’s scent; he already found it familiar and comforting, as was the slow rhythm of Jim’s breathing.

When he couldn’t wait any longer to pee, he climbed out of bed, being careful not to wake Jim and headed for the bathroom. Like the rest of the apartment, it was spare, and clean: to the extent that it hardly seemed that anyone lived there. He found a drawer in the sink cabinet with an unopened package of toothbrushes; all blue, just like the one that sat in a cup by the sink. After brushing his teeth, he returned to bed to find Jim still sleeping. 

He watched Jim sleep for a while, thinking how relaxed he looked. He knew he’d been in over his head with Dennis; but this went far beyond that. 

Jim opened his eyes, and smiled. “Good Morning, Ozzie.”

Oswald almost wished he’d die, right then and there; so he could die happy. 

Jim kissed his forehead, and staggered into the bathroom; shortly, Oswald heard the sound of vigorous toothbrushing. He smiled, knowing he and Jim were thinking the same thing; and returned Jim’s kiss with enthusiasm when Jim crawled back into bed. 

They went back to spooning; after a few minutes Jim sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Oswald teased. “Are you experiencing buyers’ remorse, about last night?”

“No! God, no! Just the opposite. Last night was wonderful; it’s just that I... I care about you.”

“Well, I should hope that you don’t sleep with people you dislike.” Oswald pulled Jim’s hand to his lips, and kissed his palm.

“I’m serious. The way I feel about you...I’m worried that it’s going to be difficult for us. Because of what we do for a living.”

Oswald tried to play it off. “We’ve spent one night together; we’re hardly married. I’m still getting used to the idea that you don’t despise me.”

“Am I important to you?”

“Yes. Yes, you know you are.” Oswald rolled over to look into his eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Do you think you’d be willing to change what you do? What if you were to transition, into some type of business that was more...legal? Hell, what if I wasn’t a cop? What if we left Gotham and started over someplace else? We’re not prisoners here.” Jim took a deep breath. “And it’s not just one night, you’re not some stranger I picked up in a bar. I’ve been fighting the way I feel about you for a year now, and I’m worn out with it. I’m done fighting. I want to be with you, and if it takes making some changes, I’ll make them. I’m not going to give you up, not now. Please tell me I’m not scaring you off.”

“Scaring me off?” Oswald nuzzled Jim’s cheek. “You couldn’t pry me loose with a crowbar.”

____________

It was warm, for October; a dazzling day of blue sky, sparkling light, and blazing foliage. Jim and Oswald sat on a small concrete bench, near a gray marble marker that read “Gordon”. The cemetery where Jim’s parents were buried was lavishly landscaped; their plot was situated near a grove of Japanese maples. 

Oswald rested his head on Jim’s shoulder. “It’s lovely here. Thank you for bringing me.”

“I used to come here every Sunday morning, by myself. Sometimes I’d sit here for hours, thinking. I never brought anyone else before. “ Jim smiled. “We’d better get going, or we’re going to be late picking up your mom for brunch. You think she’s ready to forgive me for not being Dennis?”

“As long as you keep me this happy, I think she’d forgive anything.”

“Listen, before we go, I wanted to ask you something. Next weekend, I’m taking a couple of vacation days, if that’ll work for you. I wanted to take you somewhere.”

“Oooh, I love surprises! Where are we going?”

“After my mom passed away, I bought a place. A cabin. It’s upstate, on Larkspur Lake; real quiet. It’s like here; I’ve never taken anyone else there. No one else even knows it exists. It won’t be exciting, like going to New York City.........”

“It’ll be heavenly. I’m honored that you asked me; and there’s no place on earth I’d rather go.” Oswald kissed Jim’s cheek.

They left, arm in arm, talking about their plans.

After they left, the birds continued their songs; leaves fell. Eventually, the shadows grew longer, and the sun set. The night sky filled with stars.

In Jim’s apartment, under the bed he now shared with Oswald, was a box of old family photographs. At the bottom of the box, was the picture of Oswald he’d taken from Renee Montoya’s desk; a year before he’d admitted, even to himself, how he couldn’t seem to stay away form the dark haired man. Underneath that, was a small, cream-colored envelope, with Jim’s name written on it in Oswald’s handwriting. Inside, was a folded note, with Oswald’s name on the front.

On the inside of the note, Oswald had drawn a heart. And he had written beside it, six words. “ I’m all yours, if you want me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'll close with the Ancient Egyptian Love Poem that inspired this series; it made me think of Oswald and Jim.
> 
> Ancient Egyptian Love Poem (Middle Kingdom)
> 
> "The earth trembled as you passed by,
> 
> Turning everything sacred as you walked.
> 
> And you set your blue eyes upon me for the first time,
> 
> speaking at me with the depth of the night
> 
> like a nightingale who doesn't need its wings to fly.
> 
> What a blessing it is to be worthy of your look.
> 
> I have seen rain on the desert,
> 
> and all impossible things coming true.
> 
> All of my prayers carry your name.
> 
> I wish to be pure so that I can desire you.
> 
> Take me as you will."


End file.
